My Guru, Dr. Jacobs

A funny thing happened on my way to saving the world.

When I was 19 years old, I wanted to save the world. And I knew that the way to accomplish this was through political movements. So at the beginning of my sophomore year at Brandeis University, I joined the radical leftist Students for a Democratic Society (infamous as the S.D.S.).

It was 1967, and the anti-Vietnam war movement was mobilizing. This was a cause I could champion with my whole heart. I was taught at teach-ins, sat down at sit-ins, and wielded a picket sign with a vengeance at anti-war demonstrations. My heart welled up in love and compassion for the poor, napalmed Vietnamese peasants, and blazed up in hatred for the armed forces, the Pentagon, the U.S. government, Exxon (whose interests had started the war in the first place), Dow Chemical (who manufactured napalm), the military-industrial complex (who profited from the war), all Republicans, Democrats who supported L.B.J., and anyone to the right of me (i.e. 95% of the American population).

At our S.D.S. meetings, we cast ourselves as the loving, compassionate ones, aligned against the cruel, unfeeling, mercenary warmongers. The incongruity between our professed love and our vociferous hatred might never have dawned on me had not our own S.D.S. chapter become a battleground between two opposing left-wing ideologies.

Our S.D.S. chapter was co-chaired by Leonard* and Phyllis*. It took me months to understand why Leonard and Phyllis never spoke a civil word to each other, and why our S.D.S. meetings usually regressed into screaming matches between them. Phyllis was a middle-class Jewish Socialist, devoted to a watered-down, benign version of Russian Communism with a good measure of civil liberties mixed in. Leonard, on the other hand, was a card-carrying member of P.L., the Progressive Labor Party, which looked to Chinese Communism as its ideal. He believed in rousing the proletariat to revolt against their Capitalistic masters, toward which end he tried to enlist our chapter to stand at the exit gates of factories and distribute leaflets calling for the Revolution.

How is it that we love the Vietnamese peasants, whom we've never met, but we can't stand the people we actually live with?

Personally, I didn't know any proletarians. I had never met a blue-collar worker, unless the television repairman could be considered one. A 19-year-old girl in an expensive private college, I would have felt ridiculous trying to convince a middle-aged factory worker to rise up in revolt and probably lose his job, when all he really wanted was a two-car garage in suburbia. I never attended the factory excursions, and I despised Leonard.

At every meeting, Leonard and Phyllis attacked each other with so much malice that I finally found myself asking, How is it that we love the Vietnamese peasants, whom we've never met, but we can't stand the people we actually live with?

The suspicion that I and my leftist friends were guilty of hypocrisy (the ultimate sin in the sixties) started to gnaw at me.

Around that time I read a sentence by Alan Watts, an American Buddhist philosopher, that changed my life. Watts wrote: "Peace can only be made by those who are peaceful." The searing logic of this statement splashed like ice water on my Marxist dream of political panaceas. I realized that the worthy goals of the Peace Movement could never be achieved by people like Leonard and Phyllis and me. First I would have to change myself; then I could change the world.

So for my junior year in college, I went off to India on a spiritual quest. My purpose was to attain enlightenment as a preliminary step to becoming a more effective agent in the political struggle. But a strange thing happened on my way to this goal…

MY BLISTER

I was traveling in western India with my friend Mary Lou. In Bombay, I bought a pair of water buffalo-hide sandals. Within two hours of wearing them in the hot, humid climate, I started to develop a blister.

The blister became infected. At each place we stopped, I sought first-aid, and was given ointment and the cutting edge of Western medical technology then available in India: a band-aid.

By the time we reached Aurangabad, my foot had blown up like a balloon, twice its normal size. I began to worry whether this infection could do irreversible damage to my foot. I decided to seek a Western-trained doctor, not the Aurya-vedic doctors so prevalent in India. But where in Aurangabad would I find one?

An expensive hotel where Western tourists stay must have a list of Western-trained doctors, I surmised. Putting my arm around Mary Lou's shoulder, I hopped to a bicycle rickshaw that took us to the Garden Hotel, Aurangabad's finest. To my beseeching request, the clerk at the front desk answered, "There is no such list. But we do have a guest in the hotel who may be able to help you. He's a doctor from England, sent by the United Nations."

A doctor from England? I could not believe my good luck. "Is he here now? Can I see him?" I asked eagerly.

"No, he works at the Aurangabad Hospital. But he always comes back here for lunch."

Mary Lou and I sat down and waited. A couple hours later, three white people entered: a young couple and a middle-aged, stocky man with thinning red-brown hair and a face that looked like he belonged to the Beth El Men's Club back home.

Mary Lou jumped up and intercepted them. "My friend's foot is badly infected. She needs medical care. Can you help her?"

The older man strode over to me and introduced himself as Dr. Jacobs. He looked at my foot and said, "Come with me to my room."

Dr. Jacobs led us to his room and right into the bathroom. There he bade me to wash the wound in steaming hot water. (Real, running hot water, the first I had seen since coming to India!) When the wound was thoroughly clean, Dr. Jacobs bandaged it and invited us to lunch.

Over lunch, the whole picture emerged: Dr. Jacobs was not from England, but from Cardiff, South Wales. He and the Johnsons, a British couple who were both doctors, had been sent to India for seven weeks by the World Health Organization to act as consultants in various pediatric departments. It was Dr. Jacob's second tour of duty in India.

Being rescued by a fellow Jew in an out-of-the-way place in India was such an unlikely encounter that I began to wonder: Who wrote this far-fetched script?

THE PEDIATRIC WARD

The next morning, Dr. Jacobs escorted Mary Lou and me through a tour of the pediatric ward of the Aurangabad Hospital. We passed between two long rows of beds. On each bed lay a dark-skinned child with stick-like arms and legs and a bloated belly.

"They're suffering from malnutrition," Dr. Jacobs explained. We stopped at the end of one bed and surveyed its occupant: a toddler, perhaps two years old, with a belly the size of a watermelon and limbs like Tinker Toys covered with flesh. She was naked, lying on the white sheet, staring blankly in front of her.

"Will she live?" I asked grimly.

"I don't know," Dr. Jacobs answered softly, thoughtfully, his eyes trained on the child in a look of sadness and compassion. " We're giving her the best medical care we can, but it may be too late."

It struck me that he worked with these children every day, but he was not jaded. Their suffering still moved him, still caused him anguish.

We continued walking, past the grotesque bodies with their skeletal limbs and swollen, hollow abdomens. At the far end of the ward, we exited into the corridor. Mary Lou collapsed on a wooden bench.

"I can't see any more," she sobbed, covering her face with the end of her sari.

Dr. Jacobs looked at me questioningly. "Do you want to go on?"

I was a glutton for experience. If I stopped here, what experience -- no matter good or bad -- would I miss in the next ward?

I nodded. Dr. Jacobs led me through the next door, into a smaller ward, with perhaps a dozen patients. Here the children, 10 or 12-year-olds, looked well fed and healthy. As soon as they saw Dr. Jacobs, they jumped out of their beds and flocked around him, calling out, "Dr. Jacobs! Dr. Jacobs!" They mobbed him, some hugging him, others jumping up and down. "Dr. Jacobs! Dr. Jacobs!" To each one, he gave a loving gesture, a pat on the head or a caress on the cheek, as he addressed each one by name.

I exhaled a deep breath. After the last ward, it was such a relief to see healthy children. Dr. Jacobs introduced me, "This is Sara Ann."

Now it was my turn. The children encircled me, hugging me, reaching to clasp my hands. "Sara Ann! Sara Ann!" they cheered. I imitated Dr. Jacobs, patting their heads, caressing their cheeks, flashing each one a loving smile.

"What's wrong with these children?" I asked Dr. Jacobs in English, figuring that they must be in the hospital for tonsillectomies, as I had been at their age.

"Rheumatic heart disease," he answered, continuing to shower them with love. "Their hearts are four times the size of normal."

My smile deflated.

"What will happen to them?" I queried.

"The same thing that happens to all mankind. Only sooner."

"What?" These children were more doomed than the living skeletons in the previous ward! I extricated myself from their grasp and fled to the corridor, weeping uncontrollably.

After a few minutes, Dr. Jacobs came out to find Mary Lou and me sitting together on the bench, sobbing.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to traumatize you."

I wiped away my tears and stood up. "This country needs a Socialist government," I declared ardently. "A government that will distribute the food and the wealth equally. India needs a government that will take care of its people. That's the solution to all this suffering."

Dr. Jacobs shook his head sagely. "A change of government won't help. What India needs is more love. Love is the only solution -- to India's problems and to all the world's problems."

It was hard to discount words that welled up from the mouth of a man whose hands executed his heart's ideals.

I looked at him in consternation. If a bearded, barefoot, bead festooned hippie back in Cambridge had uttered that statement, I would have lambasted him for his hopelessly quixotic, politically naive views. But here was Dr. Jacobs, standing in the sweltering corridor of the Aurangabad Hospital, big circles of sweat staining the underarms of his short-sleeved white shirt, in order to help dying children in India. It was hard to discount words that welled up from the mouth of a man whose hands executed his heart's ideals.

"L-love is the solution to all the world's problems?" I stammered.

I stood there facing Dr. Jacobs, flabbergasted at his political naivete. He represented everything I disdained: He was over 30, bourgeoisie, establishment, and apolitical. But he exuded everything I coveted: wisdom, love, warmth, and equanimity. I felt like I had commissioned an artist to paint a portrait of my hero, and when the portrait was unveiled, instead of a long-haired, bearded radical wearing wire-rimmed glasses, the visage staring at me from the canvass was a middle-class, balding, Jewish doctor.

An Indian doctor approached and told Dr. Jacobs he was needed in the ward. We bid each other good-bye and went our separate ways. The next couple days, with my foot almost healed, Mary Lou and I toured the impressive caves of Ajanta and Ellora. After that, we had planned to take a train north to Rajasthan.

But I was intrigued by Dr. Jacobs. True, I had come to India to learn from the enlightened gurus of the East, not from a Jewish doctor from Wales. But if I were a prospector on my way to dig for gold ore, and I happened upon a gold necklace lying on the grass, would I bypass it?

Dr. Jacobs's next assignment was a hospital in Hyderabad, a city in south central India. I decided to follow him there, while Mary Lou traveled north.

THE BEGGAR BOY

Dr. Jacobs had warned me that he had no time to sit around talking. The morning after I arrived, he went shopping to buy souvenirs for his family, and he said that I could accompany him. I met him at the local hospital.

As we walked out together, a beggar boy, around eight years old, accosted Dr. Jacobs. With his hand stretched out practically in Dr. Jacob's face, the boy demanded, "Bakshis, bakshis".

The boy was barefoot and bare-chested, wearing only a dirty lungi, a knee-length piece of cloth tied around his waist. His black hair was streaked with blond, a two-tone look I had considered fetching on Indian children until Dr. Jacobs apprised me that it was a telltale sign of malnutrition.

How to respond to the begging children was the major ethical dilemma of my life that year.

I was fascinated to see how Dr. Jacobs would respond. This was indeed the acid test. The hardest part of living in India, far more challenging than the heat, the mosquitoes, and the culture shock, was the begging children.

They swarmed around the railroad stations and the city streets, thin, barefoot, dressed in rags, genuinely hungry. We white-faced students were an easy mark. At every train stop, hordes of begging children thronged us, reaching their thin arms through the open train windows, or, if we dared to step off the train to buy a snack of papadam, surrounding us so that we could barely walk.

On my first train ride, to Calcutta, I had stepped out on the train platform at the first stop. I was immediately besieged by a dozen begging children. I opened my wallet and gave each one a coin. But when I looked up I saw two dozen more surrounding me. "Bakshis! Bakshis!" My coins were used up. I had bills with me, enough rupees to pay my expenses in Calcutta. If I gave them away, where would I stay? What would I eat? "Bakshis! Memsahib, Bakshis!"

Guiltily, I closed my wallet and retreated back to the train, making my way with difficulty through the throng of hungry children, their hands protruding, their voices pleading. Only the train's chugging its way out of the station rescued me.

How to respond to the begging children was the major ethical dilemma of my life that year. The obvious answer was to give, but even had I given every rupee I had, it would not have been enough.

How would Dr. Jacobs solve the conundrum of begging children, I wondered, as the beggar boy blocked his way. How much would he give him?

Dr. Jacobs did not even reach for his wallet. Instead, he patted the boy's head and smiled at him, looking him straight in the eyes. Then he continued walking, with me trailing along. The boy persisted. "Bakshis!" he called out. Dr. Jacobs, without slowing his gait, caressed the child's cheek and again smiled at him. The boy ran along side him.

We stopped at the Hyderabad Cottage Industries Emporium and went in to shop. When we came out, a good half hour later, the beggar boy was standing there waiting for us.

Dr. Jacobs flashed him a warm smile and patted his head. "Bakshis!" the boy called out. Did he really think that Dr. Jacobs would break down and give him a sum large enough to make it worth his while?

We continued down the street, the boy at Dr. Jacobs's side. Now they were engaged in a running exchange: The boy would stretch out his hand. Dr. Jacobs would clasp it and give it a hearty shake. The boy would yell, "Bakshis!" Dr. Jacobs would smile and look at him fondly.

We entered the second shop on Dr. Jacobs's list. When we emerged, we found the beggar boy squatting in front of the shop.

Dr. Jacobs gave him a big hug. The boy beamed. There were no more cries of Bakshis! Skipping and laughing, he followed Dr. Jacobs around for the rest of the day, without ever receiving even five pice.

That hungry child was starving for love even more than food.

Karl Marx taught that economics is the driving force in human affairs. Dr. Jacobs maintained that it was love. The beggar boy confirmed Dr. Jacobs's conviction. Clearly, that hungry child was starving for love even more than food.

That day in Hyderabad I came to understand something that reversed the rotation of my world. I had regarded the world as a machine that needed to be fixed mechanically -- with tools such as progressive legislation and social programs. Dr. Jacobs taught me that the world is organic. It doesn't need to be fixed; it needs to be healed. And the tinctures are love and compassion and selflessness. Becoming a loving, compassionate, and selfless person is not a prelude to making the world a better place. It is the cure itself. The world is a better place simply because people like Dr. Jacobs live in it.

WHY LOVE HEALS

Two decades later, when I started learning the teachings of the Torah, I understood why this is true. If human beings were primarily bodies, then you could satisfy their sense of well-being by handing them something physical, like money. But human beings are primarily souls. And while the body's minimal needs for food and shelter must be met (as the Talmud says, Without flour, there's no Torah ), souls are fed by love.

Marx missed the mark because his doctrine, aptly called Dialectical Materialism, takes into account only the materialistic, most superficial, level of reality. Judaism, on the other hand, addresses itself to the spiritual sub-stratum of reality, where compassion and selflessness are a more valued currency than dollars and cents.

If Marx were right, all rich people would be happy. Instead, Judaism is right: all loved people are happy.

While Jewish history is replete with political leaders and social reformers, the two Jewish heroes who most profoundly impacted the world were Abraham and Moses. Abraham, the father of the Jewish people, gave the world the paradigm of loving-kindness. Moses qualified for the job of leader of the nation because of his compassion. According to the Midrash, while Moses was working as a shepherd, a lamb ran away from the flock. Moses chased the lamb a very long distance until he found it drinking from a mountain spring. Moses said, If I had known you ran away because you were thirsty, I would have carried you here.

Related Articles:

About the Author

Sara Yoheved Rigler is the author of God Winked: Tales and Lessons from my Spiritual Adventures, as well as the bestsellers: Holy Woman, Lights from Jerusalem, and Battle Plans: How to Fight the Yetzer Hara(with Rebbetzin Tziporah Heller). She is a popular international lecturer on subjects of Jewish spirituality. She has given lectures and workshops in Israel, England, Switzerland, South Africa, Mexico, Chile, Canada, and over thirty American cities. A graduate of Brandeis University, after fifteen years of practicing and teaching meditation and Eastern philosophy, she discovered "the world's most hidden religion: Torah Judaism." Since 1985, she has been living as a Torah-observant Jew in the Old City of Jerusalem with her husband and two children. She presents a highly-acclaimed Marriage Workshop for women [seewww.kesherwife.com] as well as a Gratitude Workshop. To invite her to your community, please write to info@sararigler.com.

Visitor Comments: 32

(32)
chaya weisberg,
January 29, 2012 7:47 PM

so inspiring

thank you for such an inspiring and enjoyable article!

(31)
Anonymous,
December 17, 2007 8:39 AM

definition of religious Jew

My older study partner in rabbinical school and NYU was a former SDS leader at a NYC university. After years of working for the gov't, he chose a new career path and a new life chapter to become a rabbi. Although there were many years between us, we were good study partners. I was young, enthusiastic, called an ilui, the next chain on the longest rabbinic line in the world, and as liberal as him in many ways. He was older, married, and slowed me down when my mind went to fast.

My rabbinic father told me that we need to be open to evryone we meet from the beggar on the street to the head of some big corporation. If we did deep enough inside ourselves, then musar teaches us that we can be more available to each person we meet.

At the beginning of the 20th century, there was an individual whose job was to criss-cross city streets lighting one street light a t a time. Human beings are ike lamplighters. Every time we do a little act of loving-kindness or world repair for another individual, we light an eternal light inside him or her. After all, every Jewish life is a teaching. Every jew is placed on this earth to do one mitzvah that no one else could have done.

In the end, Dr. Jacob and hopefully the author of this article, fits the definition of a religious Jew- to heal, repair and transform the world through tzedakah, gemilut chasadim and tikkun olam.

(30)
ruth housman,
December 16, 2007 12:45 PM

love evolves

Thank you for a truly wonderful story that is transformative, out of your own life. Surely Dr. Jacobs was an exceptional man, but we can each of us be exceptional in our own way if we follow a similar path.The healing truths that are passed down, these mangificent true stories, are uplifting and to me sparks of light.

With thanks for a heartfelt story of compassion and love. I read that two people were moved so far by your story and one a young man who shares his name, and the other a woman who knew Dr. Jacobs well and said he was always compassionate and kind.

(29)
Marsha,
December 16, 2007 10:29 AM

B'seeyata D'shmaya..

Reading about Mrs. Rigler's early student activist days made me think of another young woman who's college-aged life was similar but didn't have a happy ending. Baruch Hashem, Sara Ann Rigler found her way to Torah, Yerushalayim, and the chance to inspire thousands of others. Maybe Rachel Corrie's life would have taken a similar path had her misguided beliefs not led to her death.

(28)
marj bates,
December 16, 2007 10:22 AM

No such thing as coincidence!

No such thing as coincidence! Mary Lou's infected foot helped to guide the direction of author's life. Well told! Thank you. Shalom

(27)
Andrea Zians,
October 16, 2005 12:00 AM

Dr. Jacobs was the best pediatrician

Hi this is a message for Sarah Yocheved Rigler. I love all of your articles. I was most excited about the one about Dr. Jacobs.

Dr. Jacobs was my children's pediatrician. Later on in his career he moved to Hamilton, Ontario in Canada. While in private practice in Hamilton he was the pediatrician to all of my children.

He was the most amazing physician. All of my children truly loved him, and he made each feel special and loved. Those of us who used him as a physician used to say that Dr. Jacobs did not have patients but rather Chasidim. Even now, 5 years after Dr. Jacobs has passed away, I still ask myself "What would Dr. Jacobs have told me to do?"

All of us young mothers knew that if we had a problem on shabbos we just had to wait for Dr. Jacobs to walk by on his way to shule. He always kept a throat culture in his shabbos coat pocket for just such an occasion.

He saved my son's life when my son was only 12 weeks old. I am forever thankful and grateful to him for that.

Dr. Jacobs had the habit (even in his eighties) of making house calls. If there was a problem he was there. One time we called him late at night. My young son awoke from his sleep crying that he was in severe pain from a coin that he swallowed. Our panicked call awoke Dr. Jacobs and he came right to our home. He calmed my son down and discovered that my son had only dreamt that he had swallowed the coin. As young first time parents, we were so embarassed. I apologized for having dragged Dr. Jacbos out of bed for nothing. Dr. Jacobs warmly responded that he would rather come to my home for "nothing" than for a real emergency.

I used to think that Dr. Jacobs took such good care of us because we lived around the corner from him and davened in the same shule. Then one day I was waiting in his waiting room and began talking with some of the other parents. We all had similar stories about Dr. Jacobs. One man told us that his son took ill during a severe blizzard. The father made an appointment with Dr. Jacobs but could not get his car out of the driveway. He went inside and cancelled his appointment. Much to this man's great surprise a few hours later he looked out of his window and saw Dr. Jacobs (by then in his late 70's) making his way through the horrible snow and ice to check on his son.

But that was exactly the way Dr. Jacobs was. He could not bear to see people suffer. He was a physician because he truly loved and cared for his fellow human being. He was one of a kind. The stories I can recount about Dr. Jacobs are numerous. He was a Tzaddik, a gentleman, a brilliant diagnostician and always a very humble Jew.

I really miss Dr. Jacobs and your article really made my day. Thanks.

(26)
Nathan Jacobs,
March 11, 2005 12:00 AM

Great Article

Dear Ms Rigler,

I just wanted to thank you for your beautiful and inspiring article about love. I aspire to be like the Dr Jacobs in your article.

Nathan Jacobs
B.Arts (Psychology) (Honours)
PhD student (Psychiatry)

(25)
leah,
March 8, 2005 12:00 AM

thank you for the extra dosage of insperation. we often take for granted our loved ones. thanks for the reminder.

(24)
Steve Wisner,
February 7, 2005 12:00 AM

what a powerful story. i loved it and am sharing it with my two boys Jonas and Noah. every morning i read your e mails and your site is giving me more and more spirit daily
Steve Wisner

(23)
Reuven Horwitz,
February 5, 2005 12:00 AM

Wonderful Article!

Mrs. Rigler,
Your a very talented writer. All of your articles are top notch, especially the one you wrote over a year ago to Dr. Laura and taking challah...incredible piece! Also, I live in Philadelphia, and about a year ago, I had to take my 2-year-old son to the pediatric emergency room because he had croup. The doctor who came over to see him and I was wearing a cap. When he came back a second time, he noticed I was wearing a yarmulke. He said to me that I wasn't wearing that just before. I said I was wearing a cap over my kippa. He then said, "Are you shomer?" I understood what he meant and I said, "Yes." To which he replied that his sister lives in Israel and is observant. He told me about his sister's background and that she is currently a writer. I asked her name and I realized I was talking to your brother! I said I know Sara Yocheved Rigler from her wonderful articles and he corrected me and called you Sara Ann. The Rigler name had rang a bell with me and he confirmed who your husband is, especially when he said he plays music. We learned together in the same shiur in yeshiva about 18 years ago. I am also a fan of his music that he plays and those that he arranges...in fact, I just purchased a CD this past Motzei Shabbos. My best to you and Leib...may you both continue to inspire Klal Yisrael with all that you do.

(22)
Yury,
February 4, 2005 12:00 AM

"Selfless love" and socialism - two sides of the same problem

I'm sure everybody who posted here will disagree with me, but anyway... It's very relevant to point out the reason for the existance of starving children in India. As any good book on the history and economics of modern India will tell you, up until the early 90's the economy was tightly controlled by the government (i. e. it was a nearly-socialist system), which was lovingly created as the best thing for the well-being of "the people". As everywhere else where socialism has been tried, this made for a very slow economic growth. No wonder unemployment was huge and extreme poverty was common. Add to that the government controls of grain prices that were kept artifically high and you have a perfect recipe for hunger. The economy and job creation started growing rapidly after businesses were allowed to expand with much less restrictions (i. e. a more capitalism-like economy). Today, the standard of living in Hyderabad is close to that of Europe and hunger is much less common. What does this say about love and socialism as the answer to hunger and poverty? You tell me.

(21)
Anonymous,
February 2, 2005 12:00 AM

love in the torah

aish should have an expansive piece detailing the various places that "love" occurs in the torah. interestingly, it could inlcude ahavah, hesed, rahamim, all of which mean love in the highest sense. Jews and others need to know that the source of real love in the world is in the Torah, not in the Christian tradition.

Ms. Rigler's excellent piece should be followed by more indepth explorations of love in the Torah. It'd be a tikkun gadol for the world.

thanks for a great piece,

j.s.

(20)
Martyn Jacobs,
February 2, 2005 12:00 AM

A true tzadick

The essays portrays the side of my uncle and my father, that our families will cherish and miss forever.

(19)
jackie yaris,
February 2, 2005 12:00 AM

as a physician, i am humbled by dr jacobs commitment. i believe he is absolutely right- it is all about love. as a fellow searcher, i am fascintated by ms rigler's path to spirituality. great article.

(18)
Anonymous,
February 2, 2005 12:00 AM

fantastic

What love can do to heal. It is as important as food. It is food of the soul. Now she can put to use her ideas that she learned at college. To love your fellow man. How much better the world would be if we practiced this dictom. Hopefully a decrease in war. If only we tried to understand each other better. I was truly moved by this story of this young lady's finding such a compassionate doctor. We have what to learn from our fellow man.

(17)
David Jacobs,
February 1, 2005 12:00 AM

My father - a loving socialist

I found it interesting to read this story about my late father, Dr. Jacobs, who died in 2001 at age 83. I am glad that the writer captured his poignant human characteristics and shared the memories. However, the irony is that my father was a lifelong. committed, active socialist. He did not see "love" and socialist solutions to the ills of mankind as opposites in any way. He managed my Mother's successful campaigns for election as a socialist member of Cardiff City council. He admired the Cuban and Chinese experiments in health care and joined in training a group of Chinese-inspired "barefoot doctors" in Mexico. He vigorously opposed for-profit medicine and was a fierce advocate of socialised medicine. That he opposed capitalism can be attested to by anyone who sat near him in shul. I doubt whether he would have ever argued that love alone was going to solve the problems of the starving children of India, without the love that it would take to eliminate profit as the basis of human relations. He saw both as interrelated. Socialism needed love to work and vice versa. I was not there for his interaction with a young New York radical in the mid-60s. Maybe their socialisms were different. My father was a proud Jew, physician and socialist, who loved those in need.

Thank you.

David Jacobs

(16)
Sheila Moore,
February 1, 2005 12:00 AM

Thank you for these words, I was looking for excuses and this message has given me the information that I needed to pursue daily living even though I read the scriptures, loving people no matter what has taken on a new meaning. Thanks!

(15)
Faye Beyeler,
February 1, 2005 12:00 AM

great article; one fact correction

This is a GREAT essay, but there is one fact correction. Alan Watts was British.

Thank you for your insights,

Faye Beyeler
Santa Clarita, CA

(14)
Anonymous,
February 1, 2005 12:00 AM

Love

Thank you for allowing a glimpse into your life that reveals so much depth and for introducing us to Dr. Jacobs, a person of obvious great virtue and one who understands that at the "heart" of Torah is Love.

The insight conveyed is precious-a loved person is a happy person and you have done a masterful job in attesting to this idea.

You allow the reader to envision the moment when Dr. Jacobs hugged that little boy and his demeanor was transformed from that of an undesirable, a beggar and a stereotype to one of a child, an individual and a fellow human being.

Where someone else may have filled the boy's physical needs, and certainly, this would have been virtuous; Dr. Jacobs filled the boy's spiritual needs, an act that in most likely carried the boy through the rest of the day and pressed a positive, indelible mark, however small, on his soul.

Perhaps the little boy will remember this kindness and pass its positive effect on to another.

Sometimes the best way to enact change is through the continual conveyance of "little acts of kindness." Dr. Jacobs in all likelihood has filled vaults worth.

Again, thank you.

(13)
E. Gordon,
January 31, 2005 12:00 AM

What an inspiring article!

Thank you for sharing that with us.

(12)
BILL (The American),
January 31, 2005 12:00 AM

LIFE LESSONS-SOUL LESSONS

OUR CREATOR SENDS MANY TEACHERS WHEN & IF THE STUDENT IS READY!

(11)
vincent meijer,
January 31, 2005 12:00 AM

all true

nice one thanks!

(10)
Anonymous,
January 31, 2005 12:00 AM

Thanx

Thanx for continually shedding the misconceptions and clarifications on what being Jewish is all about.

(9)
amy blumofe,
January 31, 2005 12:00 AM

another excellent essay

Thanks once again, Sara for an excellent essay. Regards to Leib and your kids. Amy

(8)
Yonah,
January 30, 2005 12:00 AM

Deep and insightful, very well written.

I enjoyed this article so much the first time I read it that I re-read this time out loud to my 20 year old son in order to savor the experience with him.

(7)
Helen Schwab (Chaiah),
January 30, 2005 12:00 AM

Thank you for an article that says it all.

Thank you for an article that says it all.

(6)
sarah shapiro,
January 30, 2005 12:00 AM

.

What a great, great article.

(5)
Anonymous,
January 30, 2005 12:00 AM

chef d'oeuvre

so well said and told
Thank YOU

(4)
j gberg,
January 30, 2005 12:00 AM

Great article, thanks! ...but i would contend that though many who are loved are happy, it is those who love who are all happy.

(3)
RivkaSue,
January 30, 2005 12:00 AM

Dear Sara,

This is a very touching story. Thank you for writing to us.

With Love from,

Rivka Sue

(2)
harvey benton,
January 30, 2005 12:00 AM

very nice

your essay is very nice -- I don't know how accurate it is to say that love will cure all (it sounds very 60ish) but the message hits home, and I like the part about Judaism affecting our souls -- a true, but hidden, sub-reality. All the best, Harvey

(1)
Anonymous,
January 30, 2005 12:00 AM

The Jewish Thing

Very interesting. I am a 1959 graduate of Brandeis. Simultaneously I studied at Hebrew College. My trip in Junior year was to Israel 1957-8. I earned two degrees:BA and BJe (of Jewish education). Yes I became a religiou teacher in Jewish afternoon schools. Love has been the feeling I experienced (but not at Brandeis) and gave to others. When I could not make a living from teaching I searched for work for a year. Love and optimism guided me to my next job in a nursing home.I was employed there in the Activity Department for thirteen years until my retirement. My love I shared with residents and received from them.
So better late than never.

I just got married and have an important question: Can we eat rice on Passover? My wife grew up eating it, and I did not. Is this just a matter of family tradition?

The Aish Rabbi Replies:

The Torah instructs a Jew not to eat (or even possess) chametz all seven days of Passover (Exodus 13:3). "Chametz" is defined as any of the five grains (wheat, spelt, barley, oats, and rye) that came into contact with water for more than 18 minutes. Chametz is a serious Torah prohibition, and for that reason we take extra protective measures on Passover to prevent any mistakes.

Hence the category of food called "kitniyot" (sometimes referred to generically as "legumes"). This includes rice, corn, soy beans, string beans, peas, lentils, peanuts, mustard, sesame seeds and poppy seeds. Even though kitniyot cannot technically become chametz, Ashkenazi Jews do not eat them on Passover. Why?

Products of kitniyot often appear like chametz products. For example, it can be hard to distinguish between rice flour (kitniyot) and wheat flour (chametz). Also, chametz grains may become inadvertently mixed together with kitniyot. Therefore, to prevent confusion, all kitniyot were prohibited.

In Jewish law, there is one important distinction between chametz and kitniyot. During Passover, it is forbidden to even have chametz in one's possession (hence the custom of "selling chametz"). Whereas it is permitted to own kitniyot during Passover and even to use it - not for eating - but for things like baby powder which contains cornstarch. Similarly, someone who is sick is allowed to take medicine containing kitniyot.

What about derivatives of kitniyot - e.g. corn oil, peanut oil, etc? This is a difference of opinion. Many will use kitniyot-based oils on Passover, while others are strict and only use olive or walnut oil.

Finally, there is one product called "quinoa" (pronounced "ken-wah" or "kin-o-ah") that is permitted on Passover even for Ashkenazim. Although it resembles a grain, it is technically a grass, and was never included in the prohibition against kitniyot. It is prepared like rice and has a very high protein content. (It's excellent in "cholent" stew!) In the United States and elsewhere, mainstream kosher supervision agencies certify it "Kosher for Passover" -- look for the label.

Interestingly, the Sefardi Jewish community does not have a prohibition against kitniyot. This creates the strange situation, for example, where one family could be eating rice on Passover - when their neighbors will not. So am I going to guess here that you are Ashkenazi and your wife is Sefardi. Am I right?

Yahrtzeit of Rabbi Moses ben Nachman (1194-1270), known as Nachmanides, and by the acronym of his name, Ramban. Born in Spain, he was a physician by trade, but was best-known for authoring brilliant commentaries on the Bible, Talmud, and philosophy. In 1263, King James of Spain authorized a disputation (religious debate) between Nachmanides and a Jewish convert to Christianity, Pablo Christiani. Nachmanides reluctantly agreed to take part, only after being assured by the king that he would have full freedom of expression. Nachmanides won the debate, which earned the king's respect and a prize of 300 gold coins. But this incensed the Church: Nachmanides was charged with blasphemy and he was forced to flee Spain. So at age 72, Nachmanides moved to Jerusalem. He was struck by the desolation in the Holy City -- there were so few Jews that he could not even find a minyan to pray. Nachmanides immediately set about rebuilding the Jewish community. The Ramban Synagogue stands today in Jerusalem's Old City, a living testimony to his efforts.

It's easy to be intimidated by mean people. See through their mask. Underneath is an insecure and unhappy person. They are alienated from others because they are alienated from themselves.

Have compassion for them. Not pity, not condemning, not fear, but compassion. Feel for their suffering. Identify with their core humanity. You might be able to influence them for the good. You might not. Either way your compassion frees you from their destructiveness. And if you would like to help them change, compassion gives you a chance to succeed.

It is the nature of a person to be influenced by his fellows and comrades (Rambam, Hil. De'os 6:1).

We can never escape the influence of our environment. Our life-style impacts upon us and, as if by osmosis, penetrates our skin and becomes part of us.

Our environment today is thoroughly computerized. Computer intelligence is no longer a science-fiction fantasy, but an everyday occurrence. Some computers can even carry out complete interviews. The computer asks questions, receives answers, interprets these answers, and uses its newly acquired information to ask new questions.

Still, while computers may be able to think, they cannot feel. The uniqueness of human beings is therefore no longer in their intellect, but in their emotions.

We must be extremely careful not to allow ourselves to become human computers that are devoid of feelings. Our culture is in danger of losing this essential aspect of humanity, remaining only with intellect. Because we communicate so much with unfeeling computers, we are in danger of becoming disconnected from our own feelings and oblivious to the feelings of others.

As we check in at our jobs, and the computer on our desk greets us with, "Good morning, Mr. Smith. Today is Wednesday, and here is the agenda for today," let us remember that this machine may indeed be brilliant, but it cannot laugh or cry. It cannot be happy if we succeed, or sad if we fail.

Today I shall...

try to remain a human being in every way - by keeping in touch with my own feelings and being sensitive to the feelings of others.

With stories and insights,
Rabbi Twerski's new book Twerski on Machzor makes Rosh Hashanah prayers more meaningful. Click here to order...